


all too well

by itsnotthatbadkid



Category: Netflix - Fandom, Stranger Things (TV 2016), billy Hargrove - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotthatbadkid/pseuds/itsnotthatbadkid
Summary: in which, y/n just wants billy to love her again
Kudos: 4





	all too well

Four inches away from Billy, looking up at the ceiling; No, gawking at the ceiling. Desiring it to be day already so you can leave.

Your brain was too busy for you to sleep. You needed to get some things off if your chest, but you couldn’t. You didn't know how to spill your thoughts out onto a platter for Billy to pick apart.

He groans out of annoyance- you must have somehow woken him up.

“What's wrong now?” He asks, no sympathy detected in his voice.

“Nothing” you state, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, imagining little people in your brain like an office. Shutting down specific areas that they work in.

“No, something is wrong. It's not healthy to go to bed disturbed. Just spill it” He explains, his back still towards you.

“Something's up. Ever since the funeral, you haven't been yourself. You've been....mean. You don't speak to me, and when you do it's not kind. Billy, you haven't even said _"I love you"_ in four months."

He stops. Everything around him stops. Time, the air conditioner, the cars outside, the wind, and the neighbor's dog barking. It all stops. He turns and looks over at you, but you just stay lying on your back.

He wants to say something, he truly does. But he can't. He doesn't have to vocabulary to say _"I'm sorry"_ without saying those two words.

But Billy...he was just too broken. And if he broke your heart more than he already did, it would just make things worse. He wanted to fix things and make it all better, make it to where you weren't afraid to speak to him in the mornings, or even at all. He knows it's all his fault that you're walking on eggshells around him. He knows he's the reason you cry yourself to sleep at night. That he's the reason you don't go to work three days out of the week. He knows all too well.

And as if he didn't hear a word you said, he turned back onto his other side, muttering a _“goodnight"_ because it's all he can think to say right now.

And you turn on your right side, just wanting this to end. Just wanting to get some sleep, rest, peace.

-

Waking up two and a half hours later when Billy's alarm went off, you thought about calling in to work for the third time this week. You never had the mental energy to go. Physically you were fine, but mentally you were as weak as a twig.

You waited for him to get out of bed first, which he usually immediately did after turning off his alarm every day.

Billy worked a couple of jobs to support both of you, one construction job during the day, and one bartending job at night. He's a true workaholic. He comes home during the day for about an hour for a meal before going to his second job at night.

Rarely would he talk to you; Only answering the questions you asked which were the basic ones.

You can't quite pinpoint exactly when things got so terrible in your relationship. You hesitate to even call it that, at this point.

When you moved in together, it was great. He was away from his father and only saw them when he was at the grocery store, or when he walked past a construction site Billy was working at. It was nice, it was _peaceful_.

But when his father got sick, billy didn't show it, but he did give a damn. He visited him at the hospital a few times, but it was quick. It was mainly just to see if he was still alive, as terrible as it sounds. He did feel bad. The last of his flesh and blood, besides max, was on his way to the light.

And when he finally passed, that was the first time you had seen billy cry. He stood there above his father's grave and tossed a rose into the hole, walking away and wiping the salty tears from his face. And from that day forward, you never saw him smile again. Never heard him laugh, sing, or even say anything remotely positive.

He spoke monotone. No emotion in his voice, in his eyes, or his heart. He was changed. But hopefully not for good.

You have been trying to not break these past four months. You've been patiently waiting for the day to arrive when he's better. When he's gotten to the final stage of grief- _acceptance_.

It's the silent prayers that have been getting you through these days. The little kids you see at work that ask for extra sugar in their drinks, or the older ladies who stop and tell you that you're beautiful and to smile more. It's the pet shop you walk by every day and hear the little puppy barks that make you just ache for one. And your wonderful co-workers that have been by your side. When you need to go cry in the back because you feel like you just can't do it anymore, or if you are late because you didn't get enough sleep the night before.

You've been barely getting by. But you're certainly thankful that you are here.

-

Standing at the counter, wiping down the glass top after a little kid spilled his milk, you look up when you hear the bell ding. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you meet eyes with Billy. He has a few dirt stains on his shirt and a new rip in his jeans that wasn't there when he left the house this morning.

Stepping to the register, you already know what he wants, but you ask anyway. "What can I get you, Billy?"

 _Its B, not Billy_ , he thinks.

Staring at you for a second, knowing that you have his order at every single restaurant you have ever been to memorized; You even know what he's going to order at a new one he takes you to.

That hasn't happened in a few months.

"Large coffee with honey and an extra shot of espresso, please." Handing you a five-dollar bill, he notices red lettering on your nametag that says "Asst. manager" That wasn't there the last time he noticed.

...When was the last time he noticed?

"When did that happen?" He asked, pointing to your nametag.

"Three months ago," You reply, handing him two dollar bills and a few dimes and nickels, which he puts in the tip jar. He feels bad; so disappointed in himself. He should know when his girlfriend gets a job promotion.

This would normally be the time where he would go behind the counter and sneak a kiss before the owner would come around and see, but that hasn't happened since his father's death. Now he just stands by the cookies like a normal customer and waits for his drink.

Watching you carefully, he notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your knuckles are dry and red, and your hair is a bit greasy. You haven't been taking care of yourself like you should, because of him. And now he feels terrible. Feels worse than he has in the last few months.

Things need to change.

-

Billy knew the route that you took when walking home from work, and he knew that if he timed it right he would catch you before you got to the apartment complex.

He saw you in your bright yellow work t-shirt that you hated so much and weaved through the traffic to try and catch you. Shouting your name from the car, you got in and took off your headphones that were plugged into your walkman.

Buckling your seatbelt and set your things on the floorboard. You looked drained, exhausted, and overworked. And for some reason, Billy has a slight grin on his face, which is the closest thing to a smile you've seen in a very long time.

You don't say anything; you don't know what you would say anyways. You haven't known what to say in months.

"Would you wanna go on a date tonight?" He asks, pulling into the parking spot that's in front of your apartment door. You shrug in response, grabbing your purse and walkman, heading towards the building.

He turns off the car and follows you inside. "It's okay if you don't want to, I just know its been a while since we've been out. I wanna...I wanna talk."

_You coulda talked ten weeks ago_

"But why all of a sudden right now? Why not a month- two months ago?" You question, leaning backward on the counter.

Billy stands like a deer in headlights. Frozen. Suddenly all of the English he's learned has disappeared, his breath caught in his throat.

"Why all of a sudden, at five twenty-seven on a Wednesday, do you wanna go out?"

"I just figured it was time, to maybe start things back up again."

You don't feel like starting an argument, so you agree to go out. Changing into comfortable clothes and letting your hair down. Spritzing on some perfume, you slip on a pair of flats and meet Billy out in the living room. You find him sitting on the sofa that you got from The Wheelers when they were selling it for a new one, playing with his lighter that worked only half the time.

"Where are we going? I don't wanna be out long," You say, grabbing a few bills from your purse and sticking them in your front pocket.

"Do you wanna just go to a bar? They won't be busy on a Wednesday evening," He suggests, standing up and putting his hands in his jacket pocket. You look him up and down and he is still in his work clothes, and still smells like dust and cigarettes.

"Are you not gonna change?" He looks down and giggles a little bit.

"Yeah, I will." He hands you the keys to his Camaro, "Go start the car and I'll meet you out there." He leans forward and kisses you on the cheek, and you feel like you're gonna run out of the breath. It's been so long since you've been kissed, even if it was just on the cheek.

-

You lead him to a booth in a dark corner, knowing you'll go unnoticed if you start to cry. You have a feeling that he wants to talk about the past few months.

He doesn't bother going to the bar and getting drinks. He just wanted to go to a somewhat familiar place to talk, and lately, that hasn't been home.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, he finally speaks up. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Sorry or the way I've been treating you for four months," He admits, twiddling with his fingers on the oak table in front of him. 

Suddenly you feel like you can't breathe. It feels like the booth you're sitting in is going to swallow you up at any given time. You feel small, especially compared to Billy.

"You don't deserve to be treated like the way I did. I ignored you, i- god. I didn't love you." Both of you feel like you're on the verge of tears- one wrong breath and the waterworks will release.

"I just...I just wasn't expecting to be affected so much by his death, ya know? I mean I...I hated the man. Absolutely despised him. I don't know why it hurt so much." He admits, bowing his head to stare down at his jeans. You reach over and put your hands over his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He shudders for a moment then leans forward and plants a kiss to your hands.

"I forgive you, B." You mutter, holding back tears, not wanting the public to see your cry face.

You stand up and grab a couple of napkins from the other table across from you, and sit next to him in the booth. Wiping the tears from his cheek and then lean into him, and it feels so good to be close to him. "I don't deserve you, y/n," He says, kissing the top of your head.

"You're too good to me." You smile, resting your hand on his thigh.

"We're all we got. We have to be nice to each other." He giggles and kisses the top of your head once more, resting his head on the wall behind him.

"I think we'll be alright, baby girl." Your heart does flips inside your chest at the familiar nickname. It just rolls off his tongue so smoothly, it almost sounds sinful. In some cases it is.

"Me too, B."


End file.
